Nine Days Waiting for the Sun
by Kiray Himawari
Summary: I think nine days have passed. Nine days have passed without a real good sleep. Nine days have passed and I'm still waiting for the sun...
1. Day One

I don't own Beyblade

-oO08( **Nine Days Waiting for the Sun** )80Oo-

by Kiray Himawari

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><p>Chapter I. <strong>Day One; <strong>_**Every day is different**_

I was in pain. I can remember it. I was always in pain… I don't know what I was thinking when I shut up my mouth; my mind. Of course I was the kind of person who didn't want to seem weak or fragile like some sick people, only because I believed that I was strong, but I wasn't. I was a totally fool.

That day was sunny, the clouds were playing in the sky, the wind was so peaceful, so warm, and the people walked and ran. I know I sound like a dreamer, but I was, in that time I was a dreamer; a simple dreamer. I hated when all of them tried to tell me what to do with my life, like if there was the necessity to study, to play, to talk, to feel, to breathe; to live… But I did not want to. At that time I only wanted to be alone, to die… Yeah, now I know I was through a depression, just I wanted to sleep without dream; without have to wake up.

At night I always heard their voices again and again, I hated them because they did not want to give up with me. They loved me for who I was, but I hated myself for that. I mean, why should I do? I didn't want to know about world because I was afraid that I like it, just because that made me weak… I was really afraid of feeling. I don't know when it started, but of course that pain was the excuse to start to crack. Then one day they watched my motions; my fails.

**-o-**

All of this started nine nights ago, around seven pm. I was in a chair waiting for a call from my doctor. It had passed half hour or something like that when a nurse called my name, so I got up and started to walk slowly. I just wanted to end all that shit about my bad health in the recent eight months. I didn't want to go to see a doctor but all people around me pressed a lot. I knew it always hurt but I didn't want to see a doctor because I was afraid of knowing that something was wrong. So I tried to deceive myself. I know it sounds stupid but it was; I was so scared.

I came in and I could see that the doctor's office was big with only a window; there were two booksellers full of medical magazines and books. Of course this was not the first time that I entered to a medical office, but I will never forget that day and that office. The light that was leaking through the window was so bright even I could almost feel my eyes being blinded. There was a horrible smell; I think it was a mixture of ammonia and lots of medicine. I really believe that said smell could kill me only because it reminded me about all those times that I was in a hospital; _the smell of the death_.

Most of people think about death like a simple nightmare that can be avoid only downplaying it. I know death is not a big deal, if you want to, but to me… to me death was the end of my dreams of being a successful man, a family man, a good human being. Death was synonym of _end;_ no more sun tickling my skin, no more wind grazing my face, no more friends to talk to or fight, no more animals who play with, no more love, _no more life_…

The doctor took sit behind his desk, in front of me. "How can I help you?" he said with his careless voice. I didn't want to talk about what was happening to me; I just could not face the reality. At the end he had to ask some specific questions in order to make me speak. I told him about all those symptoms and that pain that I felt in my body, unfortunately, I could not tell him about all the pain which I felt in my soul; in my heart.

He took note about all I said then he asked me to have some blood tests, CT scans, scans in my body and lots of shit more. I asked him what was happening to me, but he refused to tell me a word, so I went to home without answers, without feeling better and without the wish of living. I can still remember their faces shining in excitement; they wanted to know the true, they wanted to see me falling down, tearing apart; they wanted to see me _dead_. I went to my room without explanations or a simply word, I only wanted to sleep, to die; _to feel better_…

The following day I woke up because of a nightmare about me being devoured by a black hole, by emptiness. It was absurd; emptiness could not consume me, could it? Surely God was playing with my pain, my suffering. And when I realized that I was awake, I started to feel that pain, that pain that crawled for all my body. The sensation of the time being suspended, my body becoming limp, the sensation of my lungs leaving to breathe… And then someone yelled asking for help... Then the entire world stopped to exist… I was in the darkness of the unconsciousness…

You can say that every day is different because one day you are fine, and then your world starts to become blur…

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><p><strong>~oO080Oo~<strong>

Doubts, reviews, suggestions, ideas, etc.; welcome!

Thanks beforehand for your readings


	2. Day Two

_I think nine days have passed. Nine days have passed without a real good sleep. Nine days have passed and I'm still waiting for the sun..._

I don't own Beyblade

* * *

><p>-oO08( <strong>Nine Days Waiting for the Sun<strong> )80Oo-

by Kiray Himawari

Chapter II **Day Two; **_**Calm doesn't always come after storm**_

I didn't want to count the days which were necessary to know the damn answer, but when that day arrived I only wanted to scream. It was not a serious problem; it was not cancer, nor lupus, nor some tumor, it was simply gallstones. I know it was funny (if you want to), but I was not afraid of the gallstones, in fact that was ridiculous; it was the surgery what I was afraid of; the risks of the surgery, _dying during the surgery_.

Is it not funny? I wanted to laugh and cry. Was I so weak to not support a little pain? I _was_ weak. My worst fear was becoming true; I was going to die for **being weak**. The sun was so bright, the sky so clear and my mind so dark. Little by little every scene of my life was passing in front of me without pauses or sounds, not only pieces of scenarios with me on them. _"I'm going to die" _was my first thought, my first certainty.

I always believed in death, I knew I was going to die, but it was much better not to think about it, to ignore the problem; to ignore the _death_. It was simple, wasn't it? Just closing your eyes and faking to be fine. I don't remember how I arrived to the dojo because it didn't matter when I saw all the looks they gave me. _**Pity**_. They felt pity for me; they did see my painful soul through my eyes. I could not contain myself and then ran to my room. There I started to cry. Anger, fear, frustration, panic and terror were some of the feelings running in my mind. _I did not want to die_; **I. Do. Not. Want. To. Die**.

I did not want to feel pain again; I do not want to feel pain again… I… I can't recall what happened after my stupid scene; I only felt the warm of my sheets, the itch in my eyes and my aching heart. I can still feel the sensation of defeat and humiliation. If Grandfather had been there, surely he had slapped me because such show of weakness. It was silent, I didn't know if it was night or day when I woke up because my room was totally dark and the curtains were closed. Sometimes I believe that it didn't matter because I could only feel and live the darkness.

**-o-**

The next minutes, hours, days went so slowly, I don't think I had thought a lot about the matter, I was just trying to evade reality; it was much easier. In fact those days were much bearable, I remember I slept like always – six hours, I trained, I ate normal, and my behavior did not change a lot. Sometimes I caught them looking and me with those eyes that told me how weak I was. Also I remember how with my emotionless face said to them about the surgery's process. They were so excited about the fact, and my indifference simply added a little bit of emotion.

I know they only saw my barrier, the wall that I had built to contain my feelings, my worries and fears. They couldn't see my brisling skin, my mind playing games against me, the upset set in my guts, my heart beating so fast… And then the nightmare had place…

I can see and feel again all of those sensations. That morning was cold, almost at the end of fall. I remember how I packed my clothes, how I saw all my room as it would be the last time I was going to see it, how I felt when I crossed the door and left all behind. The journey was so tranquil, so quiet. The landscape was so beautiful; the bright grassland, the green trees, the pure air, the clear road, the sunshine...

I signed in at hospital, a nurse explained to me what was going to be the process. I changed my clothes for that hospital gown. It was light blue, just suiting with all the rest; hospital cap, my bandaged feet, the IV. They clean my skin to cut freely, to tear my flesh. I can recall some of the dark corridors, the noise of the sirens in the distance, and the elevator I had to take to arrive to the operating room. There was a horrible smell and noises; it was just like a bunch of chemicals, boiling water and whines. I was petrified trying to register all what was happening till a man with white coat spoke to me.

He said his name, I don't know why but I cannot remember, maybe I suppressed his name to forget loathe him. Also I received a visit from another nurse, the assistant of the surgeon, she said her name too, but just like the previous one I put it in the last place of my mind. I don't remember how time passed until the time to go through the surgery, however, I didn't feel secure or well to be saved by that process; I was just trying to suppress the urgency to scream and yelled "_leave me alone, leave me alone; I do not want to die!_"

I can still feel the oxygen mask and the eyes of them on me. Then I felt a terrible pain, just like I had been hit by a car. I opened my eyes; it was still dark, it was still painful, it was still as horrible as the beginning. No I did not feel better, indeed I felt worse; I wanted all of that to stop…

Yes, I was alive, but I don't know why I could not feel better or why all of that shit went so wrong. No, the calm does not always come after storm; in fact, it never comes…

**~oO080Oo~**

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><p>Doubts, reviews, suggestions, ideas, etc.; welcome!<p>

Thanks beforehand for your readings


	3. Day Three

_I do not own Beyblade…_

-oO08( **Nine Days Waiting for the Sun** )80Oo-

by Kiray Himawari

Chapter III _**Day three; Every Suffering is Trace of Life**_

My head was spinning and my vision was blurry, I suppose it was because of the anesthesia. Now the pain was something different; it was not as sharp as the pain in the past days, it was like if that pain was a relief. In some point in that moment I believed that all the suffering was over, that life was going to be ok; and how wrong I was. I started to take notice of my surrounding; white walls, white sheets, white chairs, a white sofa, white bandages… even my clothes were white now. Some memories of the past started to come back as my heart began to beat faster.

I think I felt panic or terror, I do not understand the difference between them very well, but I know that it doesn't matter because my heart ached, just as my soul. The smell of death was everywhere and the sensation of the end was starting to become harder and harder; I was going to die _there_, in a hospital. As my brain tried to take control over my feelings I heard a cry. It was the cry of a child, I suppose, but that sound began to pierce my timpani. I knew that cry because time ago I cried in the same way, it was just like a lonely boy who is looking for his parents who were killed for an accursed accident.

But they did not die in an accursed accident, I am conscious of what had happened to my parents to not be with me in my childhood and that reason is as simple as the fact of humidity when it rains; they left me behind because I was not supposed to born it that moment of their lives. I remember Grandfather telling me the truth, and I have to admit that I called him a liar because I refused to believe in his word. As time passed I learnt that sometime life is never fair, but that didn't stop me then, just… Why now? I learnt no to feel hate for them, I don't hate or loath them, they simply mean nothing to me. On the other hand, my Grandfather is a figure that I respect even if he was not the type of grandfather that hugs you or tells you stories before going to bed, I love him because he was there for me, just for me.

Sometimes all people ask themselves why I "defended" him in the trial, and I have to say the truth always and it is that I love him and that I have nothing against him; he gave me education, a roof to be warm and a figure of authority, what more did I need to ask? At the end he had to go to prison because of financing illegal experiments, I am not aware of what they were talking about and it doesn't matter. My heart continued beating faster and faster and the beep of the machine was following the rhythm. A nurse came quickly just to see me awake. Immediately she yelled at someone to come to help her I did not know why until the air was lacking in my lungs.

I was desperate because I could not breathe and my eyes were wide open while my pupils were changing and my vision become blur. That pain came back, I just could feel how my body turned limp and the darkness wrapped me again. My mind was blank, I could feel or think nothing, like a child that doesn't know what to do in an adult meeting. When I opened my eyes again I saw a familiar face, he was smiling between concerned and happy. Why didn't he give up?

I am the kind of person who shows hostility, rudeness, sharpness and all those things that people hate, but there he was, he was always there and I cannot just accept it. I cannot accept that he pities me; pity is for weak ones. I am not weak, I am not weak, I am not… I am sorry, the rage built up suddenly, I don't know why the thought of being weak scares me that much and why I am so frightened of death, because it is not natural to me.

To be honest I am hurt, but I don't know why. People always say that pain is trace of life, but I think that maybe pain should not exist.

**~oO080Oo~**

Doubts, reviews, suggestions, ideas, etc.; welcome!

Thanks beforehand for your readings


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